When I Dream
by Nadare
Summary: Ian roughly grabbed her around the waist, hauling her towards one of the half-opened doors, one of his creatures waiting for them. Jillian didn't know what laid behind it, but everything within her went cold at the mere thought of passing through it. A Season 4 (The Dream House) one shot.


[Written on and off between 7-8-19 to 7-12-19]

Tags: Season 4: The Dream House, Psychological Trauma, Developing Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Dreams and Nightmares, Pretzel Jack, One Shot.

* * *

"_**When I Dream"**_

_ She was trapped and alone in the dark. It was too murky to even see her own hand in front of her eyes. A faint but growing voice in the distance caught her attention, causing Jillian's breath to waver in shock._

"_Jillian." Ian's cajoling call sent shivers down her spine, Jillian turning and taking off in a run. Her half-brother laughed, the low chuckle seeming to linger in her eardrums._

_She didn't know how long she ran, Jillian finally slowing as a lit tunnel loomed ahead of her. With no other options, she entered it, a series of multicolored doors hanging in every available inch of space around her. _

_Jillian put a hand to her mouth as the doors began opening one by one, eerily dyed faces peeking out from behind them. They leaned out of the openings, long fingers brushing her arms and legs as she passed them by._

"_I'm going to make you mine." _

_He was standing right behind her, Ian's breath hot on the back of her neck. In life, Jillian had found him scary because he had no discernable limits, constantly propelling himself to achieve his twisted goals. Still, Ian had only been human in the end, his own mistakes costing him his life._

_In death, he was worse because Ian was everywhere. Jillian's thoughts, memories, and dreams. No, her nightmares._

_Ian roughly grabbed her around the waist, hauling her towards one of the half-opened doors, one of his creatures waiting for them. _

_Jillian didn't know what laid behind it, but everything within her went cold at the mere thought of passing through it. She had a feeling that the moment she did, all hope would be lost._

_Not one to simply let things happen, Jillian bucked in Ian's grip, using her hands and legs to strike out. Grunting in pain at the blows that rained down on him, Ian dropped her to the floor. _

_Jillian got to her feet, heading to the end of the tunnel where no light shone at all. An exit. She had to make one. Though she'd been training every day to further refine her ability, Jillian's control was far from perfect. _

_It didn't have to be big, she reminded herself as she focused intently. Just enough to squeeze through. _

"_Get back here," Ian growled, pulling on her ankle, yanking Jillian off-balance. Desperate now, her concentration shot, she stretched out her arms and fingers, silently pleading for help as his creations began to surround them, coming closer and closer._

_The world around her shook, then du-_

Jillian's eyes shot open, finding her brow wet with sweat and her heart pounding wildly. A dream. Only a dream. She closed her eyes, willing herself to calm down.

Warmth suddenly pressed against her back, Jillian letting out a grateful sigh. Tom must have heard her distress and moved over to her side of the bed. She reached for his hand and squeezed it, eventually slipping back into unconsciousness.

* * *

"Jillian?"

She stirred, tiredly opening up one eye. "Yeah?"

"You did it again," Tom announced dryly.

Jillian sat up, the covers slipping down to her lap. "Did what?" She turned to look at Tom, expecting to see him laid out next to her. Instead, a familiar white and red streaked face peered at her silently. "Oh."

Tom stood at the end of the bed with his arms crossed over his chest. "I know you're struggling to control it, but you can't keep pulling Pretzel Jack out like a teddy bear whenever you have a nightmare."

"I'm trying, Tom," Jillian insisted, reluctantly pulling out of Jack's comforting embrace. She could feel his disappointment in the strong mental link that connected them, Jillian flashing him an apologetic smile as she slipped off the bed.

Jack's limbs clicked noisily, echoing in the confines of the bedroom as he crawled off the bed, going onto his back, head twisted around unnaturally.

The blue door that had summoned him into existence was on the wall next to the bed, standing fully ajar.

"I know. It's not like I don't have nightmares about what happened either," he admitted, looking at Jack warily as he approached Tom on all fours.

Jack straightened abruptly, walking towards Tom, his arms rising high in the air. Tom leaned away a touch, Jack following after him. "W-What's he doing?"

"He wants to give you a hug," Jillian said chuckling, realizing Jack's days of acting like a monster were long behind him. If nothing else, the whole mess with Ian had taught her that in the wrong hands, the ability could be absolutely terrifying, but by itself, was innocuous and nothing to be ashamed of.

Standing stock still as Jack enclosed him in his arms, Tom slowly relaxed, putting a hand on the middle of Jack's back. "He kind of smells like putty."

"Putty?" To Jillian, he was comfort personified, smelling exactly like her childhood home.

She'd never gotten very close to any of Jack's former bodies when they'd expired a few months ago, too rattled by the sight of them. Yet Jillian knew all too well that Jack's insides were white. Maybe Tom was right and she was too affected by nostalgia to notice any strange smells around him.

"Are you making him do this?" Tom asked, meeting Jillian's gaze.

She shook her head, coming to stand next to the pair. "Not consciously anyway. He's very much his own entity in that regard."

Seeing Tom so accepting of what was an extended piece of Jillian made her appreciate their recent reconciliation all the more. He truly had been worth fighting for.

Jillian wrapped her arms around both of them, kissing Tom, then Jack on the cheek. Her precious boys. They'd saved her many times over.

As if placated by the action, Jack retreated from them, almost somersaulting out of the room. Tom looked after him, seeming puzzled.

"Where's he going?"

"Down to the basement." Jillian bit her lower lip. "Tom," she said quietly. "I really don't want to destroy him again."

Tom looked at her for a long moment, then sighed. "I suppose it's okay. So long as you don't fly off into a murderous rage anytime soon."

"Well, treat me right and it won't be a problem, will it?" Jillian teased, laughing when Tom rolled his eyes. Her mirth trailed off as he touched her arm, the devilish glint in his eyes telling her she should expect to a return to the bed that morning where they'd be doing anything but sleeping.

Jillian thought that sounded just fine.

In the room deep below the basement, she felt Jack idly look up at the ceiling, then lay his head down on the floor, falling into a deep state of rest. Simply waiting to be of service once again.


End file.
